


The Song of the Pragmites

by whiterosewithering



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Original Aliens - Freeform, Original planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:00:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiterosewithering/pseuds/whiterosewithering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Jane and the doctor encounter new alien species in yet another prison cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song of the Pragmites

Sarah Jane and the Doctor were led, dragged rather, to a prison cell in the darkest, dankest regions of the capital. Doctor and companion were bound, front to front, by the very lengths of scarf that usually resided around the Timelord's neck. Faced with rather uncomfortable circumstances, the Doctor apologized profusely to the stone-faced Sarah Jane, whose scowl would frighten the greatest of men. If looks could kill, the Doctor thought.

Their captors, now dragging the duo into a cell with rusty bars, conversed and laughed at the discomfort of their prisoners. Without even untying them, they exited the cell, locked the gate, and disappeared behind a massive antiquated metal door. The archaic locks screeched into place, sealing them in. 

Sarah Jane took in her surroundings. The scene of a dark prison cell was becoming familiar to her. Rank-smelling water dripped from a crack in the ceiling to collect in a brackish puddle at one end of the cell. Rusty rods barred the windows, which emitted very little, murky light. At the rear of the cell stood one lonely mattress, askew on the cold stone floor.

The Doctor was fussing with the binds of his scarf, looping it this way and that, trying to avoid having to cut it. "No respect for fine clothing," he grumbled bitterly. After about 10 minutes of fussing, he finally managed to free them from the scarf. After they were released, however, he found himself missing the close proximity to his female companion. 

Nonetheless, he started to pace around the small space, pushing on the walls, searching for any weakness in the ancient masonry. He gave up after a short time and sat down on the mattress, burrowing instantly into the chasm of his mind. 

Sarah Jane, understanding what the Doctor was doing, sat down beside him, elbows on her knees. She started to hum a tune, gazing sightless at the cell door. 

"Why, Sarah Jane! You are indeed a genius!" the Doctor roared suddenly, jumping to his feet. A grin stretched the skin on his face, exposing his glorious collection of teeth. 

"Wait, what?" Sarah spluttered, utterly confused. 

"Song!" The Doctor cried. He held out his large hands to Sarah, who grasped them with her much smaller ones. The Doctor led her about, trying to get her to dance with him. He laughed his musical laugh and Sarah soon joined in. "We will sing for them! Well, the pragmites will, anyway," he half spoke, half sang. 

Sarah Jane slowed her dancing, then stopped, removing herself from the large man's grip. "What do you mean? Speak sense, Doctor." she grumbled, putting her hands on her hips in an accusing manner. 

"Living in these walls are little, mites if you will." he grinned with childish mirth, squirming slightly under his companion's intense gaze. 

"What does that have to do with singing?" she prodded, still a bit confused. 

"If we make the pragmites sing, the Braygies, our lovely captors, will go deaf." The Doctor explained.

"But won't we too?" Sarah replied, not liking the sound of his plan. 

"It's not likely, my dear. The Braygies have much more sensitive sensory receptors than humans or even Timelords. We should be safe if we plug our ears," he replied. Sarah didn't like his emphasis on the word: Should. With nothing else to go on, she reluctantly accepted his plan. 

The Doctor flew through his plan so fast that Sarah had a hard time keeping up. When the Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, sonic of course, he told Sarah he intended to use it to rile the pragmites. 

Sarah Jane stared at him for a moment, her face resuming its stony complexion.

"What?" he asked, wounded at her expression. 

"You've had it the whole time and you didn't bother to use it on the door?!" she spat through gritted teeth.

"Oh, well.." he spluttered, momentarily at a loss for words. He recovered and continued, "What would be the point? We'd walk out and get thrown right back in here," his face was innocent, shrinking away from his companion's glare.

Sarah mumbled darkly, something the Timelord didn't hear, and resumed her place on the mattress. 

The Doctor was grateful when she relaxed her glare and he sat down beside her. He could see the gooseflesh on her arms, and cursed himself for not noticing earlier. “You should have told me you were cold,” he murmured in a low voice. He tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his warm embrace. Though his body temperature was cooler than any humans’, Sarah Jane welcomed the warmth. She shivered once, and sighed.

“Why is it, whenever I’m with you I end up in some prison or another?” her tone was wistful, no longer angry. 

The Doctor didn’t reply, just hugged the girl tighter. “I’m just glad to be spending this time with my best friend. No matter the circumstances.” He leaned over and planted a kiss in her hair. 

They sat there like that for a while, perhaps 2 or 3 Earth hours, before the guards finally returned. They were, of course, greeted by an armed escort to take them to the president of Braygon. The Doctor stood, a grin plastered to his face. He made some cryptic signal to Sarah, who covered her ears. After the cell door was unlocked, the Doctor raised the sonic screwdriver which emitted a high pitched, drawn out squeal. 

The walls started to seethe and shimmer as millions upon millions of the tiny creatures flooded to the surface. The guards moved to flee, but were too late as the pragmites started to sing. Their song was a raucous insectine buzzing. Sarah Jane didn’t hear it as much as felt it, like the bugs were writhing and seething inside her head. The guards, cat-like paws clenched desperately over their ears, collapsed to the floor, thrashing and begging for them to stop, but of course the pragmites paid them no heed and continued to sing. 

The Doctor, hands over his ears, signaled to Sarah that it was time to leave, nodding at the open door. Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped up and scrambled to the door, taking great caution not to trip over the scarf still looped around her small frame. She could not hear the Doctor two steps behind her. The companions, stepping around bodies of now-deaf, but otherwise completely unharmed, Braygie guards, escaped with ease and headed in the direction of the TARDIS.  
When they finally reached the blue box that stood alone in the middle of a rock-strewn quarry, the Doctor grinned at his companion and unlocked the door. Sarah side-stepped him and retreated instantly into the interior recesses of the time machine without a word. 

The Doctor, worried by her haste to leave his company, went to the console and started pushing buttons and put them into the vortex. He then began his search for Sarah’s room, being as the TARDIS, his TARDIS, refused to show him the way. It seemed she was upset that her Doctor had done something to upset her beloved charge, Sarah Jane. 

The Doctor grumbled darkly, but the TARDIS finally relented and showed him the door to Sarah’s room. He knocked softly, but when there was no answer, he quietly pushed it open. On the massive bed lay Sarah Jane, snoring contentedly, on top of the covers. She hadn't even bothered to remove her shoes or his scarf that was still twined around her tiny neck. 

The Timelord smiled to himself and started unwrapping the scarf from her neck. Due to her smaller stature, it was twined around her neck 3 or 4 times to keep from tripping over it. He draped it over the chair beside her bed and removed her shoes, placing them where she would not trip over them  
With all the care in the universe, the Doctor picked up his human companion, who felt so small and fragile in his arms. He pushed aside the covers and set her down, drawing the blanket up to her chin. 

“Goodnight, my Sarah Jane.”


End file.
